


A feather, a robin, a butterfly.

by Cuthwyn



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Brother Feels, Dick really should answer the phone, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuthwyn/pseuds/Cuthwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A feather, a robin, a butterfly. All are signs that your angels are with you.</p><p>A hungover, injured and majorly confused Dick Grayson ponders over why Jason never falls in his dreams.</p><p>Also why does he recognise this Red Hood guys laugh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A feather, a robin, a butterfly.

When Dick Grayson dreams.  
He dreams of falling.  
His parents falling, Bruce, friends, family, everyone falling.  
Falling down into the darkness and him powerless to catch them.  
Powerless to save them. 

Jason Todd never falls in his dreams.  
He's never there.  
Maybe, because Dick was never there for him?  
Maybe deep down he believes the little voice is right? He was never there because he didn't care.  
Maybe Jason doesn't fall because he had already fallen?  
But then maybe, maybe he doesn't fall because he never fell at all? He's just somewhere in the audience, looking up. He's sat munching on popcorn watching the show with that cocky grin of his, laughing, laughing and waiting for his Dickiebird to figure out that he never fell at all.

Jolting awake Dick let out a strangled yelp as he toppled off the couch and face planted into cold, uneaten pizza.  
Sometimes life just had wonderful ways to say good morning.  
Spitting out a mouthful of cheese and a slimy bit of mushroom (it was a vegetable Alfred could shut up) Dick pushed himself back to lean against the seat of the couch and wiped pizza sauce off his face with a groan.  
Man did his head hurt and it felt like a raccoon had decided to spend the night in his mouth. Dropping his hand, he looked down at the empty bottle of Bourbon by his feet blankly.  
Well, that explained that one.  
His phone bleeped in his pocket. Taking it out he saw four unread messages and a few thousand missed calls from the same people.

'Dick. Call me. It's important. Bruce.'  
'D. Please call me? I need you. Bruce needs you! Stuff has happened. It is paramount that you call me. Tim x'  
'Dick? Are you okay? You took off pretty quickly last night? Has Bruce talked to you yet? Babs x'  
'Dickiebird! Your gonna want to call me dude. I swear if you've passed out in your pizza again I'm hiding your cereal! Roy x'

Great, now the squished, uneaten, pizza and the empty, bottle of bourbon were judging him too and Dick wanted to die. Life was shit when Roy Harper of all people had the moral high ground.  
Deciding that all of them could wait until later to yell at him, Grayson stumbled over to the kitchen.  
Ouch.  
What?  
He looked down at his strapped up leg and groaned. Oh right, yeah, his leg was bust.

Swallowing down a couple of paracetamol he grabbed hold of a box Cheerios and cast a glance around for a clean bowl and spoon.  
Finding neither and discovering that his milk was fast becoming a scientific experiment (Tim would be so proud) he relented to eating the cheery little O's straight out of the box.

A high pitched screeching rang in his ears.  
His brain apparently decided that enough was enough and seemed to be trying to crawl out of his head to escape the din.  
What was that? Where was it coming from?  
An icy cold breeze blew over his forehead mockingly. Munching a mouthful of cereal Dick sighed in exasperation to discover the open window.  
Crap he'd forgotten to close it after he came in last night, again.  
The high pitched trill rang out once more.

Growling Dick stormed over and stuck his head out into Bludhaven's smog, determined to silence the racket so he could brood in peace and quiet.

A little robin was sat on the fire escape, chirping away merrily to himself in the sunlight.  
All anger and even the hangover faded away and a slight smile melted across the young man's face.  
How had he not recognised his song? Was he not listening properly?

Noticing that it had company the bird ceased it's singing and made as if to fly away.  
'Sssh no. No Little Wing don't fly away.' Dick called out to the bird softly. Placing a few bits of cereal on the window sill, his smile broadens when the creature hops on the spot, as if assessing the danger.  
'It's okay. I'm a Robin too.'  
Dick was losing his mind or he was still drunk as he swore blind the bird cocked it's head as if he understood what was being said. Giving a little cheep the bird flew over to Grayson's window and pecked hungrily at the offering.

Being careful not to move for fear of startling the robin away, Dick felt tears prickle behind his tired eyes. He remembered another little bird who enjoyed stealing his cereal. Fuck, he'd give the little shit an entire box just to see his annoying face one more time. Maybe if he'd been a bit more accommodating things would have turned out differently? 

Having eaten it's fill the bird cheeped again before flying off into the city. Watching it fly away Dick couldn't help but huff a laugh to see it had flown off in the direction of Gotham.

'A feather, a robin, a butterfly too. All are signs your angels are with you' Grayson muttered.  
It was an old saying his mother used to whisper into his ear whilst she combed her fingers through his hair.  
He had never understood her superstitious words back then. Too young, too innocent in the world to realise the meaning.  
He understood now. Watching the robin fly away.  
This morning he had felt like crap. An angel, a robin, had come from heaven to tell him he was not alone.  
He understood his mother's words now. He felt at peace after his little visit.  
Not the painful darkness he was so used to. It was still grief but peaceful, it felt odd.  
The brief relief gave his mind time to breathe, recuperate, and figure everything out.

Circuits reconnected like a switchboard, the alcohol induced haze slowly dissolving away with clarity. He couldn't remember anything after ordering pizza, that had obviously arrived.  
He did remember his trip to Gotham though. Chasing the new guy, the Red Hood, around the city with Bruce until he had gotten injured.

The doubts and questions restarted doing the rounds in his head. The guy was good, too good. He knew Batman, hell he knew Nightwing. He had been trained. No, not just trained the man had received nearly the damn same training that he had.  
The Red Hood knew him and, and despite his most logical reasoning he felt like he knew him too.  
He knew Hood's laugh.  
Somehow.

Dick sighed and looked back up in the direction the robin had flown away in.

Fuck no.  
Eyes widening, Dick cried out when he smacked his head on the window as he ducked back inside.  
Fuck no.  
Scrambling back over to the couch, he collected the papers he had been studying the night before in a frantic frenzy.  
No, no, no. It couldn't be. It was impossible. Wasn't it?  
Memories of the whole event with the Red Hood hit him like a freight train.  
Bruce sent him home. He sent him home and, and thanked him. Actually thanked him.  
This was why he'd drank last night.  
He'd figured out fucking why!

Lifting a picture of the Red Hood he ran a trembling hand down it.  
Now there was the painful darkness he was so used to.  
Tears from such an agonising betrayal seeped down his cheeks.  
Bruce had kept him in the dark, again.

'Jason. My Little Wing.' Dick muttered hoarsely to his empty apartment.

A feather, a robin, a butterfly too. All are signs your angels are with you.  
Or they never fell at all, and are sat in the audience with that little cocky grin, eating popcorn as they watched the show and waited for Dickiebird to figure it out.

The little shit.


End file.
